


Work It

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Series: Sportsfest 2018 [63]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Calendar Models, Gen, beefcakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 19:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Bokuto and Daichi get roped into modeling for a racy calendar full of other athletes, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Little did they know the results would change them forever.





	Work It

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Sportsfest 2018 bonus round 3.

Staring at the email given to them by their team manager, Bokuto and Daichi looked at each other simultaneously but with wildly different reactions. “So, will you guys do it?” the manager asked over the speakerphone when neither of them spoke.

Daichi bit his lip and frowned. “People like this kind of stuff? And why us?”

Nodding emphatically, Bokuto said, “‘Course they do. And why  _ not  _ us, Daichi? I’m hot, you’re hot, and the only thing more awesome than your thighs are my arms. Japan needs to know.”

“They really don’t.” Daichi rubbed his temples and tried to picture how two of them naked on a magazine cover could manage to be anything short of pornography. However, the photo shoot paid very well and student loans were enormous. Sighing, he said, “Fine.”

Bokuto beamed, and Daichi regretted the decision already.

  
  


The photoshoot was set on a pristine stretch of beach, but Daichi wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to enjoy the scenery. He was wearing nothing but a cock sock and a towel around his waist. Bokuto, however, had no such compunctions. 

“Dude, I feel like a specimen.” Bokuto was making muscles and checking his arms in different angles of sunlight. “We should really spend more time outside. We’d both look awesome with some more brown.”

Daichi shook his head. “We’re students who spend any time we have left after school playing volleyball. We don’t do outside.”

Bokuto waved a hand and clapped Daichi on the shoulder. “They’ll probably just photoshop us or something.”

“Goody.” Daichi let the set crew herd him into position, and soon he found himself holding a colorful beach volleyball against his hip, with nothing but Bokuto’s head obscuring his groin. Crouching in front of Daichi, Bokuto extended one leg while he flexed his biceps. A strategically placed surfboard was all that separated the camera from a candid shot of Bokuto’s junk.

Makeup artists flocked around them, oiling up every visible patch of flesh, and the camera clicked and clicked and clicked. At last, they were paroled and Daichi could put on his real clothes again.

A week later, the team manager called them both in the office and handed over a large manila envelope. “This is the shot they picked.”

Daichi reddened. “You, uh, didn’t look at it, did you?”

“Hell no.” The manager harrumphed. “I’m twice your age and also straight.” He waved his hand toward the door. “Open that literally anywhere but here.”

Bokuto grinned and dragged Daichi from the office, scrambling to pull the glossy photo from the envelope. When he looked at it, however, his nose wrinkled. “It barely looks like us.”

Daichi peeked over Bokuto’s shoulder and laughed. “Dude, they made your chest bigger and changed your hair.” Daichi’s mirth fell away quickly when his attention turned toward his own portion of the photo. “Did they make my butt bigger?”

“Hell yeah, they did.” Bokuto waggled his eyebrows and smirked. “It’s kinda hot.”

Turning the picture to look at every conceivable angle, Daichi nodded and murmured, “You’re right.”

Their eyes met, and Daichi blindly stuffed the picture back in the envelope as they said in unison, “We have work to do.”

With that, they dashed to the campus gym to make the photographer’s vision a dream come true.

**Author's Note:**

> There is no excuse for this story, yet I find I'm not sorry at all.


End file.
